Happy Birthday Russia!
by Kakyoku no Kaze
Summary: After being with the American for this long, Ivan should have come to expect his inane behavior.  But at times his patience really was tested.  What could Alfred be planning sending him on a wild goose chase for his scarf?


After being with the American for this long, Ivan should have come to expect his inane behavior. But at times his patience really was tested.

Especially when he had looked through his entire house only to find that his scarf was in Alfred's hands. Now normally that wouldn't be a problem. If the blond dared to touch his scarf without his permission, he could always use his head as batting practice and the matter would be resolved. But, unfortunately, the only way Ivan came to realize that Alfred, in particular, was in possession of his scarf was through a picture-text sent on his phone. It wasn't a good picture, but clear enough so Ivan could see Alfred wearing it.

"Amerika~," Ivan said with false sweetness after his call had gone through, "where are you being at this moment in time?"

A high-pitched laugh. Oh, how that grated on his nerves since usually a mock was to follow through. "Whhhhy?"

"Is just wanting to see you right now~," Ivan replied with a façade of coyness.

"Whhhhhy?"

"Because is missing you of course~!"

"Whhhhy?"

'_Because your neck is begging to be rung._' "Because~! Now be telling me where to meet you~!"

Another laugh, "Now where's the fun in that, Ivy?" '_Begging to be rung with Florida chopped up for stew._' Alfred _knew_ how much Ivan disliked that nickname.

"Things will be _very_ fun when we meet, I can be assuring you~," Ivan said, making sure to add that special emphasis that seemed to make the American blush. He didn't know why it did, but if it worked who questioned?

A pause. Ivan could tell Alfred was swallowing hard to keep his tone. "Well, we can have loads of fun now, too! Let's play a game, shall we? If you can manage to catch me, then you can have your scarf back. I already gave you a clue earlier! Although if you aren't here in seven minutes, then too bad! You need to wait for my next clue! Sound good? Not like you have a choice." And a snicker this time.

Ivan's smile twitched, but his scary glare would be wasted since Alfred couldn't see him over the phone.

"Let's seeeeee, three minutes have already elapsed! You better hurry! Oh, and if you don't get your scarf back by six tonight, then you'll never see it again, NFFUFUUUFU—" a hack and a cough. "Tick-tock!" Dial tone.

Ivan held the phone to his ear a while longer, listening to the drawn out _beeeeeeeep_-_beeeeeeeeeep_s. He wanted to throw it in the air and slam a pickaxe through it, but how productive would that be? Not very. Instead, he took a deep breath and flipped back to the photo.

The photo showed Alfred with the scarf around his neck. He was making a 'victory' sign with his eyes closed. What kind of clue was that?

Rolling his thumb back over to his contact list, he pressed on 'American Idiot' and waited for him to pick up. Twenty seconds later of him not picking up showed he wasn't about to get any more out of him.

Grumbling, he looked back to the picture. Something in it should be a hint. In the background was something colorful pressed up against the night sky. Upon closer inspection he could see it was the illuminated towers of St. Basil's Cathedral.

Two seconds later, he had pulled his vehicle out of the driveway and was heading to Red Square. Said vehicle was large enough to pass for a tank and had enough horsepower to make someone mistake it for a charging rhinoceros. It was safe to say that he had no trouble making it there in record time.

He parked and got out, looking at the photo to see which angle Alfred had taken the picture. He knew his lands like the back of his hand, so it wasn't hard. That was one advantage Ivan had.

In no time he stood in the exact spot Alfred was. Exact because there was still a hamburger wrapper on the ground. He picked it up and blinked when a key fell out of it onto the ground. Odd. After tossing away the wrapper, he picked up the key and turned it in his hand. He didn't recognize it. With a shrug, he pocketed it. Might as well incase Alfred had stolen something else important and this would come in handy later.

Sighing, he looked around. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, although it was arguably very easy to lose a tall young adult male in this crowd. He began walking around to see if he couldn't sneak up on him. If it weren't for the fact that his neck was cold without his precious scarf and that he was engaged in this stupid game, he would have enjoyed this little outing. Ivan always liked seeing his 'little ones' during their daily activities, and more so when the night was clear and only a layer of snow crunched underfoot. It was almost peaceful.

He was on his walk for about half an hour before his phone buzzed, showing he had an incoming text with a picture attachment. Opening it right away, he saw that it was again another snapshot of Alfred, although this time it was just the end of Ivan's scarf, Alfred's cowlick he dubbed Nantucket, and a lopsided figure-eight on the ice.

Not wasting any time, Ivan got back into his car and drove off to the skating rink. Unfortunately, parking was hell to find and by the time he got to the actual rink, all he saw were teens and couples skating around. The surrounding trees and area were shaded in shadow, the rink being the only lighted area. Ivan first circled the rink and came up empty. He tried again, this time tilting his eyes to the angle the picture must have been taken from. It was then he noticed something unusual sticking from a tree branch that hung slightly over the ice.

Lucky for him, his faucet pipe was enough to knock the whole branch off so he could pull it off. A hamburger wrapper with a key inside of it. Again? Although this key was smaller.

A part of him wondered if Alfred was cheating. Maybe he took the picture and left right away. Ivan refused to believe he had this hard of a time tracking him down.

He decided to get into his car right away so he could leave as soon as the next clue came. Besides, it was already five-twenty. He only had forty more minutes left.

Tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, he shivered as the temperatures made another drop. He turned on the engine and flipped on the heat. Idly, he thought about just hitting every McDonald's within a twenty mile radius since Alfred had to be getting these wrappers from _somewhere_, but logic dictated that the blond had already purchased these artery-clogging slops in advanced.

A small sound alerted him and he looked at his phone, but it remained cold and silent. That made him glance towards his radio/CD player and turn it up.

'_Call me irresponsible; call me unreliable._

_Throw in undependable tooooooo!_

_Do my foolish alibis bore you?_

_Well, I'm not too clever I just_

_adore you~_'

Ah. He forgot Alfred stuck his mix CD in there. Ivan was half-tempted to snap the CD in two, but it was a gift and if Alfred found out, he'd make him another one anyway. Besides, this song reminded him of the blond in more ways than one.

After four more track changes, his phone finally buzzed. This time, the photo was accompanied with a text message. It simply said '_12 moar min! tic-tok!_' Sometimes Ivan wished he wrote in a way that was understandable, but no time to think of that. The photo showed the scarf in mid-toss. It partially obscured a sign so all that showed was 'J-h-nes'. However, it didn't take long for him to realize that Alfred had taken that photo in front of a Johannes restaurant. It was well known, after all, for its food, atmosphere, and high prices.

Wasting no time, he sped off back towards the heart of the city, stealing a spot from another car before it could make its move into the space. Spotting a hint of a blond cowlick sticking from a window inside the restaurant, he jumped out and went inside immediately.

"Braginski, Ivan?" a hostess asked with a pleasant smile.

"Yes," he answered, wondering why she was asking.

"Right this way, please," she said, leading the way deeper into the confines of the elegant restaurant. He followed along until she set down a menu on a table that was far enough to give ample privacy yet not detached from the general atmosphere of the restaurant.

The only reason he didn't leave yet was because he was both intrigued by the hostess's behavior and because his scarf was draped over the seat she laid the menu in front of.

Ivan took his scarf back but blinked when the end caught on something. He pulled it up and noticed one end of the scarf was tied to the handle of a small suitcase. After he untied his scarf from the handle, he placed the suitcase on the table and tried to open it with his hands. It was locked.

Eying the keyhole, Ivan pulled up the two keys and examined them in his palm. Taking the smaller one, he held it up to the hole and shook his head. It was far too small. He tried the bigger one. "Ah," he exclaimed when it clicked. Twisting the key, the lock and the lid popped open to reveal bottles of luxury vintage vodka nestled snuggly in the suitcase. Seeing them, his eyes widened and a tiny shine even sparked in those amethyst orbs. These were, as one would colloquially say, the _good_ stuff.

He was so distracted he almost didn't notice someone coming up behind him to wrap him in a one-armed hug; someone who always smelled distinctly like hamburgers and cologne. Ivan would have bopped the American on the head had he not been cradling these precious treasures in his hand.

Instead, he glanced back, allowed the blond to greet him with a peck to the nose-tip, and asked, "This is meaning I have won the game, hm?"

Alfred snickered, pressing his lips together to hum teasingly. "Maybe, maybe not~. Either way, sit down. I'm starving and they're bringing our food right now." He moved to take a seat across from Ivan as the waiters set down the plates of extravagantly prepared dishes.

Ivan moved the suitcase aside and took a seat. He eyed Alfred with a lofted brow. Normally, he would complain about how strange or bland Russian cuisine was, but here he was willing to eat it? At these prices?

After the plates were all set down, the waiters excused themselves. Alfred took one of the bottles of vodka and Ivan's glass before he opened it with ease and poured. Something plopped into the alcohol before he slid it over to him. "Don't worry, it's already chilled," he said with a smile.

But Ivan wasn't really concerned with that. He looked into his glass and noticed something was inside of it. Using a fork (since his fingers were too big) he pulled it up and saw that it was a golden locket of some sort with a sunflower design. A quick examination revealed that it too had a small keyhole located on the bottom of the oval piece. He took up the smaller key and stuck it in, opening the locket. As soon as he did, the national theme of the United States of America started to play in a cheery yet soft lullaby-way. Inside the locket revealed one half to be the American flag etched into the gold fold and filled with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. The other half was a photo of Alfred framed in glass.

When Ivan looked up, Alfred was blushing faintly with his eyes adverted to a far right corner as he held up a similar-looking locket that was tied around his own neck, hidden partially by his dog tags. He had waited until Ivan looked over to open his own. The theme of the Russian Federation began playing and inside the locket was an etching of Ivan's flag as well as his framed picture.

"Alfr—"

"S-so you'll never forget me and stuff! And I'll never forget you," Alfred said then mumbled, "Although it's not like I will but it's the thought that counts and whatnot."

When Ivan just blinked at him, Alfred's blush deepened and he said quickly, "Anyway, Happy Birthday, and all that jazz."

Birthday—

_Clang_. The connection was made. Today was the 30th wasn't it? For Ivan, this day didn't seem all too significant since no one really bothered to celebrate it with him. And since it'd be a waste to celebrate alone, he just didn't think much of it.

A small smile spread across his face. So Alfred remembered, huh? And all this was just some rouse to eventually lead him to this little private celebration between them. Who knew the American could be this thoughtful? It was enough to warm his heart.

Taking the vodka glass, Ivan held it up in the air. Alfred caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, smiled, and complied by holding up his own to clink against the Russian's. They both drank, draining the glasses as was customary between them.

"Thank-you, Alfred," Ivan said, pouring them both another glassful. He sipped slowly, savoring the flavor of the expensive vodka. He leaned over slightly to pat his hand on Alfred's head. A pout was forming in the blonde's cheeks until Ivan's thick fingers squeezed the base of that special stubborn cowlick and slicked the motion upwards until it pinched the very tip. He had to stifle a chuckle at the dark crimson blush that completely overtook Alfred's face.

Ivan hadn't forgotten what he made him go through to arrive here, after all, and he'd be sure Alfred wouldn't either for a long, long time.

Happy Birthday, indeed~!

* * *

><p>AN: Just a small tribute story there! Hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Happy Birthday, Russia!


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